Flying in on Bloodstained Wings
by WinterSky101
Summary: Dean knows there's something wrong when Castiel doesn't land properly in the motel room. Mid-season 6 AU. Hurt!Cas. Protective!Dean.


**Hi guys! This is just a little hurt!Cas drabble that I wrote when I was bored. It takes place in the middle of season 6, so Cas is fighting Raphael and Dean knows about it. Sam's got his soul, but he's not in the fic so that really doesn't matter. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

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Dean knows there's something wrong when Castiel doesn't land properly in the motel room. That's only cemented by the fact that the angel seems to be holding all his internal organs in with the arms wrapped around his torso.

"Cas!" Dean calls in a panicked voice, going over to the angel. He's on his knees and bent over, both arms desperately clutching his stomach. "Cas, what happened?"

"Dean," Castiel chokes out. At least, Dean _thinks_ that's what he said; blood is bubbling up on Castiel's lips and preventing coherent speech.

"Okay, man, just hold on," Dean says desperately, dropping to his knees next to Castiel. "How the hell did this happen? Wait, shit, you probably can't answer me. What can I do? Shit, you can't answer that either!"

Castiel unwraps one arm from around his waist and taps two bloody fingers to Dean's forehead. A flood of colors-images-ideas-thoughts-words-phrases and finally _sentences_ enter Dean's mind.

_I was battling Raphael,_ Castiel tells him. _I was injured. I had to get somewhere safe. This was the first place I thought of. You don't have to do anything. I'll be fine in a few hours._

"Bullshit," Dean replies flatly. "You definitely need stitches, at the very least. I mean, look at you. Your fricking guts are going to fall out of your stomach." Castiel shakes his head emphatically, or as emphatically as he can. "Don't be stupid," Dean huffs. "You need stitches." Castiel shakes his head again. "Goddamn it, you stubborn son of a bitch! Look at yourself! You're dealing with shit that would kill a human in minutes and it _has_ to be hurting you. Just let me stitch you up."

Castiel puts two fingers to Dean's forehead again, and this time the sentences form faster. _I don't require stitches, Dean. I'm an angel. I'll be fine. I just need a place to stay while I heal._

"Fine!" Dean snaps. "At least let me bandage you, then." Castiel glares at him, but he doesn't shake his head, so Dean takes that as encouragement and goes to grab the bandages. He'll need a lot, but that's not a problem; he and Sam always have a ridiculous amount of first aid supplies on hand. He has more than enough.

Castiel lets out a low groan as Dean tries to get him to straighten up. It has to be painful and Dean feels bad, but there's no other way. He doesn't try and get Castiel onto the bed that he collapsed next to, but he does prop him up against it the best he can. When he thinks Castiel can't take any more shifting around - his face gets to a point where it's dangerously pale - Dean stops moving him and grabs the bandages.

Castiel's fingers tap against his head, and it takes no time at all for the sentence to form this time. _This is completely unnecessary,_ Castiel basically whines, though Dean's sure he'd use a different word. _All I needed when I came to you was a place to stay and recuperate that was away from Heaven. I don't need you to baby me._

"Well, deal with it," Dean replies. "Is there any way you could set up a link between us or something? Just till you get better? Cause the poking-me-in-the-head-with-bloody-fingers thing is getting old really fast."

Castiel frowns and yup, there he goes with the fingers and the poking again. _It is possible, but I'm not sure how wise it is._

"Can you get rid of it when you're better?" Dean asks. Castiel nods, though he still looks unsure. "You positive about that?" Castiel nods again. "Then do it."

_This may be unpleasant,_ Castiel warns, then there's a burst of heat coming from his fingertips that worms its way into Dean's mind and settles there. It's definitely not normal, nor is it really _nice_, but Dean wouldn't exactly call it unpleasant either. It's just weird.

"So can you talk to me without the poking now?" Dean asks.

_Yes, _Castiel replies, his voice seeming to emanate from the little coil of heat in Dean's mind. _This is not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be._

"Gee, thanks," Dean replies sarcastically. "Now let me bandage you up."

_You really don't have to,_ Castiel replies. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Quit whining or I'll put in stitches, whether you want them or not." Castiel's affronted, though Dean thinks it's mostly because of the insinuation that he was whining, and he's silent the whole time Dean bandages him up.

"So," Dean says when he finishes. He leans up against the bed, next to Castiel. "How's the fight against the evil Empire going, Luke Skywalker?" Castiel gives Dean a look.

_I don't understand that reference,_ he tells Dean in a petulant voice. Dean grins. He knew Castiel wouldn't get it, but it's fun to tease the angel.

"How's the war going?" Dean clarifies. "Doesn't look like you're doing too well."

_I am a seraph,_ Castiel replies with what sounds like a sigh. _Raphael is an archangel. I always knew it would be hard to challenge him._

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll win in the end," Dean sighs. "We always do. It's never easy and we always seem to lose everything on our way there, but we win."

_That's so uplifting,_ Castiel replies in a dry, sarcastic voice. Dean's somewhat startled by the attempt at humor.

"Yeah, well, it's true," he replies defensively. "And I think you'll make it through this."

_I hope so,_ Castiel replies with another sigh. _But this fight is exhausting. And I think you can see I'm not doing too well._ Castiel flutters his hands over his body weakly. His arms are still covered in blood. Come to think of it, his entire _body_ is still covered in blood.

"Can I clean you up?" Dean asks. Castiel looks at him in confusion. "You know, ditch the bloody clothes and see if we can find some normal skin under all that red?"

_Alright, if you-_ Castiel's mental voice breaks off as he starts coughing, a harsh, wet couch that wracks his whole body.

"Cas!" Dean demands, trying to figure out some way to help. "Cas, what should I do?"

_I'm fine,_ Castiel replies, but even his _mental_ voice seems weak. He's still coughing harshly and now there's blood coming up on his lips.

"You're not fine! Tell me what to do!" Dean demands. Castiel continues to cough, but he's shaking his head at the same time. "Cas! You need help. Tell me what to do!"

_Dean, leave me alone!_ Castiel snaps. He's starting to double over, which is causing more blood to seep through the bandages on his torso. Dean puts his hands on Castiel's shoulders to try and hold him steady and upright, but the angel pulls away violently. That only serves to aggravate his wound more and even _more_ blood colors the bandage.

"Cas, goddamn it, let me help!" Dean demands. Castiel's really in no shape to try to stop Dean from helping him, but he tries his best.

_Dean, please just leave me alone!_ he begs when he finally can't fight anymore.

"Why?" Dean demands angrily. "You're in really bad shape. Why won't you just let me help you? And I swear to God, if it's some sort of pride thing, I will smack you."

_I can withstand this. I'm an angel,_ Castiel protests.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you should have to. Let me help. It's what family's for." The words slip out unthinkingly. Castiel looks at Dean in surprise.

_You consider me family?_ he asks in an almost shocked tone. Dean nods.

"Of course I do, Cas. You're one of the Winchesters now. I thought you knew that."

_I…I didn't realize…_ While Castiel puzzles over this new development - it's not that big a deal and Dean's not sure why Castiel is so shocked by it - Dean hauls him up and lies him down on the bed.

"You're gonna stay here until I tell you that you can leave. And get some rest, goddamn it. You're running yourself ragged up in Heaven. Relax for a while."

_Dean, I'm fighting a _war_. I don't have time to relax,_ Castiel protests. Dean sighs.

"I'm sure your soldiers can get along without you for an hour or so. Tell them where you are and let them know you're taking some time off if you're that worried."

_I can't,_ Castiel admits. _I'm too weak to be able to shield my message from Raphael and his followers. There's too high a chance of him intercepting it and coming here. And I am obviously in no shape to fight him off._

"Then just relax. There's nothing else you can do."

_How am I supposed to relax when my army is being killed, under my orders?_ Castiel demands. Dean sighs.

"You're doing what you have to do."

_My brothers and sisters are dying, and it's all my fault. You cannot honestly expect me to relax. I should be fighting alongside them,_ Castiel snaps.

"Well, you're in no shape to do that," Dean snaps back. "So relax. It'll help you get better faster."

Castiel sighs deeply and closes his eyes. His body's still as stiff as a board, though, so Dean knows he's not relaxed. "For Christ's sake," he mutters.

_Don't blaspheme,_ Castiel scolds. Dean rolls his eyes and crawls into the bed next to Castiel. The angel looks shocked. _What are you doing?_

"I'll relax if you do," Dean offers. Castiel still looks dubious. "Come on. You need the rest. And I'll lie here with you."

_You are very strange,_ Castiel remarks, but he's starting to relax slightly. Dean grins.

"That I am. Now loosen up. I feel like I'm lying next to a statue. And keep your hands to yourself." The only reason Dean's lying next to Castiel is because the bed is a queen, so there's more than enough room for the two of them, and Sam's spread out various research materials on the other bed. That's what he tells himself, anyway. It should be a lot more awkward than it is, lying next to Castiel on the bed, but it's actually surprisingly comfortable. Dean relaxes his body and feels Castiel cautiously do the same next to him. He smiles slightly. "Come on, Cas. You can rest for a bit. It'll be okay."

_I will if you stop speaking,_ Castiel replies waspishly. Dean pulls back defensively.

"Jeez. Touchy much? I'll stop talking if you want."

_Please do,_ Castiel murmurs in reply, and Dean thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's going to fall asleep. He resolutely shuts his mouth, and a moment later, he shuts his eyes as well. He's not going to _sleep_, he's just going to _rest_.

The next thing Dean knows, Castiel is sitting next to him, an amused smile playing at his lips. Dean jumps. "Don't _do_ that!" he snaps.

"I apologize," Castiel replies, and he's actually speaking, not sending thoughts into Dean's head. Come to think of it, Dean can't feel that weird patch of heat in his head, so he guesses Castiel's undone whatever he did before.

"You look a lot better," Dean offers. Castiel nods.

"I believe my stomach is mostly healed," he replies. Dean raises an eyebrow, because that wound looked fatal and it couldn't possibly have healed in a couple of hours.

"Let me see," he demands. Castiel allows Dean to remove the bandages, and sure enough, all that remains is a pink, puckered scar where the wound used to be.

"The scar will fade as well," Castiel puts in. Dean shakes his head in disbelief.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he asks rhetorically. Castiel frowns.

"Is that one of those questions that is not actually supposed to be answered?" he asks. Dean nods with a chuckle. "I don't understand why humans ask questions when they don't actually want an answer," Castiel adds petulantly. Dean laughs.

"It's just something we do. Humans are weird. You know that already." The atmosphere gets serious quickly and Dean sighs. "Since you're all healed up, I'm guessing you're going home, right?" he asks. Castiel sighs.

"I'd rather stay with you," he replies honestly. "But yes, I must return to Heaven. I'll come back here at my next opportunity."

"I understand," Dean replies. And he does. That just doesn't mean he has to like it. "See you then." With his normal fluttering noise, Castiel disappears.

Dean gets up from the bed and stretches. He hadn't expected to fall asleep, but it's probably not bad that he did. And it's only been two hours, so it's not too bad. He's pretty sure he's got messages from Sam, though, so he reaches over the bed to grab his phone. And it's then that he notices the slip of paper and the pure black feather on the bed. His phone temporarily forgotten, Dean picks up the paper and the feather. He unfolds the note and reads it.

_Thank you for helping, Dean. This is one of my feathers. Keep it with you and it will alert you if I'm badly injured. Perhaps next time I can stay with you a bit longer. Castiel._

Dean smiles softly at the message. Then he picks up the feather and twirls it between his fingers. It's probably a good seven or eight inches long, and it's a pure, glossy black. It's beautiful and Dean briefly wonders what the wing it belonged to looks like. Then he smiles and tucks the feather in his pocket, along with the note.

A real angel feather. Sammy's gonna flip.


End file.
